


Once and For All

by Fandomshiz



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Action, Fighting, Love Triangles, M/M, Romance, Super heros and villains, Superstuck, all that good shit!, old au that i wanna write about
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-03-12 05:37:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 22,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3345509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandomshiz/pseuds/Fandomshiz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your name is Jake English and you hate your nemesis so much. He absolutely infuriates you! That hero Strider is always beating you down into the ground. As the haughty villain you are, you think up a plan to finally take him down. Maybe for once you will impress your father, who was the greatest super villain to have ever lived, Lord English. Unfortunately things aren't going as well as you've planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there my good people. I am so very happy that some force within you decided to click on this, and I thank you for that. This is based off of a rather old Homestuck AU, called Superstuck, created by Marzichan. I won't take credit for the idea, but I will take credit for the plot of this fic! Anyway, have a good read.
> 
> (Side note! Since I'm basing off the old Superstuck AU, I still want some of my own original elements to be incorporated so some things such as powers and character backgrounds have been changed, but otherwise all characterization stays the same!)

Your name is Dirk Strider and you don’t know what the fuck you have gotten yourself into. 

Maybe if you hadn't felt so tired none of this unnecessary shit would have happened, because as of now you are racing down the street, at full speed. You apparently had been so exhausted that you decided that it would be a good idea to send one of your robots to do the hero work for you. Which was a great plan, because why not? You had a machine that could do the whole super hero and saving people shit for you, so why even bother doing it yourself? You thought it must have been the best idea you had come up with recently since the bags under your eyes from sleep deprivation had yet to disappear. For hours a night, on end, you would be slaving over your workbench trying to come up with new gadgets to make and sell for just a little extra money. 

They sell at a well rounded price, and it was just enough to survive in the rundown, crap-shack that you called home. It was hard being a hero when no one even knows who you are, therefore you don't get paid, but its all part of the hero code. It pretty much stated that it would be unjust if one hero was to get more gain than the average hero and so on. But if it were up to you; you would call that out as BS. 

For the things that one man has to do for the safety of others, you sure as hell wish you got paid some money. Then you could actually build some high quality robots and animatronics. So maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't get a call at three in the morning stating that the brobot you sent out to save people was now going haywire through the streets trying to knock down every old lady and child it saw. 

Not that they would be prancing about at this time of night but still, punching a dude is a little much. And who's to say some old lady isn’t sleepwalking after getting high on her pain meds and old people vitamins? She could get sucker punched right in the jaw and having to explain that to the police was not your forte. 

Your legs heave and grow heavy with exhaustion. As if it isn't already bad enough for you. The burning feeling in your calves and the way your feet started to get as heavy as lead reminded you that you need to work out more, and perhaps try not to miss leg day next time you hit the gym. 

You can tell you are getting closer to the psychotic contraption when the streets all around you reek of absolute destruction. A telephone pole is split in half and crushing a nearby fence, a flipped car and smashed fire hydrant spews water like a fountain. You curse to yourself knowing that you’ll have to fix that somehow, and praying that by some slim chance it wasn't your robot that had caused it. Unfortunately for you those prayers were not answered when you stumble further into downtown Skaiopolis. You slow your pace to check out the damage. 

The first small town store you stumble across has a shattered window, shards of glass litter the streets and glimmer under the moonlight. The next shop has its door ripped right off the hinges. You wish you could blame it on the robbers you originally sent the robot out to get but you know that no regular human could have that kind of strength and brute force. It must have been your lunatic contrivance, and from some of the damage that has been done it is starting to worry you, if only slightly. You really hope a lawsuit won't be filed for this. Well you might be able to slip by that one since you’re a protector of the city and all that jazz. 

A loud, vehement sound jars you from your thoughts. You whip your head to the direction of the sound and stop in your tracks to get a good eye of just what you’re dealing with here. Just the next street down you can see it, your deranged robot. He looks just like you but chrome tinted, and well, not alive. Other than that you could say it’s an exact replica. Same slicked back hairstyle, same pointy anime shades (though you are wearing goggles at the moment due to your hero costume), and same build. Quite handsome. Another reason why you need to take the guy down quickly so the cops can’t know it was your mistake for letting him rampage about in the city in the first place.  
You squint your eyes to get a closer look at what he was up to. 

It seems like he was just gallivanting about, recklessly going head on into some street side trash cans, kicking and knocking them over before he starts heading at another closed store. 

You swear that it would have been less of a problem if you had just let those robbers get their goods and leave. There would be far less property damage for one thing, Now there’s a deranged robot and a criminal on the loose because of your mistake. 

It only makes your calves burn and ache more as you race down the street to your robot. This was really a lot harder than it seemed since you thought your legs were going to give out just about any second. As you run your super suit is getting more and more uncomfortable since you threw it on in under five seconds before leaving your home, and now the realization that you are going to have to fight in it as well just strikes you. God, today you have really fucked up.

Within only just a few feet of the brobot you call out to get his attention. He was charging straight at the front door of the small downtown shop. The shops window was filled with all sorts of pottery and china with hand painted, dainty designs on them. Great. The perfect fucking store for this situation. This was really turning out to be your day- or night that is. 

“Hey. Stop it right there.” You command him. Since most of your robots know the sound of your voice you think this one shall listen. But alas this one seems far too out of control, and it makes you wonder what in all of fucks name did you do wrong to mess him up like that.

‘There has to be some major faulty wiring in there somewhere.’ You think. 

Instead of listening to you he rams himself, full force, into the door with his shoulder. You hear the wood crack, splinter, and split but not quite break. What is he even seeking in there anyway?

“Oh fuck this.” You mumble to yourself under your breath and walk up to him. All you have to do is dismantle the panel on his back that holds the on and off switch, then you could shut him down. Simple enough right? Right. 

Before the robot even had a chance to ram himself back into the door you tackle him from behind and smash him into the ground. You pin him down by the shoulders and reach for your belt which holds a screwdriver, all the while you keep your right arm on the brobot, safely pinning him down. 

Or at least you thought you were safely holding him down because in one swift movement he twists his torso around, making you lose your grip and sends a cold metal fist straight at your jaw. The movement was so fast and fluid that you have little time to react, in fact you don’t see it coming at all. When the steel and scrap metal collides with your jaw all you can feel is a piercing pain flow through your face and down you neck as you’re forcefully knocked off the robot’s body. 

“Shit.” You curse and hold your jaw, that surely was going to leave a bruise and a heavy mark. 

The contraption gets up on his feet and curls it’s fingers into fists. His eyes glow with fire behind the ominous anime shades that you built onto him. He’s ready to fight you. 

And you’re ready to take the challenge. 

You get to your feet and into a defensive stance; A little pissed that your own invention could lay a good shot on you, but after all you are dead tired and this wasn't making things any better. On the other hand though you know where its weak spots are since you built the dang thing, so maybe this won't be too much trouble. You open and close your mouth a few times trying to get the ache in your jaw to subside, or at least get used to it, so you can better focus on your target. With fists pulled close to your chest you’re ready for brobot to pull the first move, in which he does. 

He charges at you in an expeditious manner. A fist aimed right at your face like he was trying to double the pain from what he last caused, but you quickly dodge him and kick his steel chassis away from you

On a usual circumstance you are as fast as lightning but you can't help but feel sluggish, especially when you fail to evade the machines next attack. 

A kick to your right hip causes you to grunt in pain and stumble backwards. This really must have been one of your off days; normal occasions you wouldn't fail so horribly at this. You take a few steps back before the brobot can lay another punch on you. Soreness stings and pinches your side. Great, another bruise you’ll have to live with. A sudden heat rushes through your body and tingles in your hands. 

Once more he rushes at you again but this time you are a little more prepared. You dodge left and start speeding off down the street. 

No, you are not running away, but you were trying to get a better shot at him, hopefully he's not faster than you. The fatigue is overwhelming but you know you have keep going. 

Another wave of heat washes over you. It causes you to shudder but you keep running. You turn your head to see if the haywire robot is following you. It turns out he is right on your heels, the red of his eyes blare and seem to be slowly getting closer. 

“Shit. Shit. Shit.” Those seem to be about the only words you mutter say at the moment because you know you might just be totally fucked here. The only thing that pierces your hearing as well as your train of thought is creaking of the unoiled, metal hinges of heavy footsteps pounding after you.

You move your feet from the street to the sidewalk. You can't bear the pain in your legs from running and the horrid irritation coming from your side.

You stop and whirl around. The brobot is right there. Right next to you still in a full speed charge, ready to tackle you to the ground and beat the ever living shit out of you. Another static heat wave floods your inner core.  
In a instantaneous movement you grab him right before he slams into you. 

You are still knocked back every so slightly from his speed but still manage to turn and hurl his body in an electricity pole. It must have been pretty forceful because he seems dazed, and his arm twitches just once. 

The heat in your body is now unbearable, the static starts to itch at your hands. You’d really hate to ruin one of your creations, but you know you have to. You can feel the sparks start to ripple across through you. The sensation is almost overbearing. You need to get this energy out of you right now and your failed robot is the perfect subject. Your hand shakes slightly as you hold it in front of brobot. A few sparks of excitement fly from your leather, gloved fingertips. As soon as you fire a bolt of electricity at the machine it snaps its senses together and moves out of the way just in time. 

The bolt instead hits the electricity pole, right in the utility box. Sparks go flying in every direction. All the bulbs in the street lights for for what seems like a one mile radius burst. As you look around yourself in astonishment the city is starting to darken, street by street the roads turn black. As everything goes dark your orange eyes flare with electricity and glow right through your shades. 

Fuck, what did your powers do? Curse being a damned hero that always screws things up. You knew that the bolt of energy you sent at the brobot was far too much but at the time you didnt care how powerful it was, and now look where that got you. You really need to either learn how to control your superpowers better or never even try to use them at all. That was fairly difficult because even being slightly worked up could set them off. Sometimes you can not help but feel no better than a villain. 

You didn’t have anymore thoughts when a sudden punch to the other side of your face is what raps you out of your thoughts. Looks like your feisty robot is still up for the fight. 

***

Your name is Jake English, but you prefer to go by your more renowned name, General Terror, when in the company of others. As of now, inside your evil lair, you are shut up in your room reading a quite gracious issue of Deadpool. You love comics but it’s a shame that the villain can never win, and thats all you want. Sometimes the evil doer must win, right? Well of course.

You think that it is more truly a shame that Deadpool started off as a villain but then degraded himself by becoming an anti-hero. More of a mercenary, but still. Such a damn shame that is.

A good question might be, why are you even up this late? It is three in the morning after all. Well you would have liked to have blamed it on your insomnia. If you had insomnia that is. 

The truth is that you could just stay up hours on end indulging yourself into a good comic book. It has been a nasty habit of you since you were just a young lad. Your father used to get enraged over it saying that reading them would turn you into a pretentious, smart assed, hero. But you didn’t care, you quite enjoyed them, you thought that maybe by reading them you could learn from the follies of the fictional villains makes and possibly better them. That hasn't worked out for you thus far though you hope maybe the tables will turn one day. 

A great action scene is going down, when without any indication whatsoever, all power to your evil lair goes out. You are left in pitch darkness. 

Since your eyes don’t have time to adjust you can't even remember what you were last reading, and if not for holding the comic in your hands you would not be able to tell you were even reading something in the first place. 

From the pit of your stomach you can feel the anger boil within you. Frowning, you get up from your bed and try to find your closet. You know who did this. You’re pretty damn well sure you know who did this. Only he would try to ruin your serenity, he’s always trying to ruin you though you try to do the same to him. It just makes you absolutely infuriated! Correction, HE makes you absolutely infuriated!

You bump into all sorts of things as you try to find your way to your closet. You smash your side of your desk, and well, that sure hurt like hell. After another stumble over some dirty laundry you have yet to do, and you make it to your closet. You proceed to take out your, pristine white villainous suit with a green cape and a belt that holds your famed green skull symbol on it. 

After stripping yourself of your pajamas (which were quite manly and had nothing to do with Hello Kitty you may add, and unquestionably had NOTHING to do with your ex mistress) you gear up into your suit. With an extraordinary amount of luck you find your black boots and slip them on your feet. 

The next tricky part you have to get through is finding your handy dandy guns that you always leave by your bed, and it would have probably been smart if you had gotten before you went the get your villain attire, but that obviously slipped your mind. 

You stumble back over to your bed, once again slamming your side into the corner of the desk. Well at least you have two symmetrical bruises now, that’s not entirely an upside but you’ll take it for what it is. 

On the floor right by your bed lays the two handy guns. They are both quite large laser powered guns but they each serve different purpose. With your eyes just now starting to adjust to the darkness, you pick them up and grip them tightly in your hands. You found them easier than you thought you would.

The first gun, which was the one in your left hand, held a high powered, compressed, shock wave. It wasn’t used for killing but just knocking people off their feet and giving them a good struggle. You would say it was really enjoyable to use, it was the gun you used the most. The second gun, the one held in your right hand, was used for another reason and that was killing. It held compressed laser beams like bullets, but they were far more deadly. Only once have you ever used it to directly kill a living being, and you are not too sure you would like to see the result of it again. 

Your father had them hand crafted special, just for you. At first they were both deadly, but you tweaked the left hold one so you wouldn’t just have to kill every living being you came across. When your father found out about it needless to say he was disappointed, but he didn’t stop you from the new arrangements. 

Now equipped with your weapons of choice you make your way out of your room and out the evil lair, approaching your garage full of fanciful cars. You had many cars given to you from your father, Ferraris, Koenigsegg, Audi r8, a couple Camaros here and there. Your collection mostly contained of high end sports cars with a few luxury cars thrown in the mix such as a Mercedes-Benz CLA, which was a nice and simple car to drive around town. But by far your most favorite car had to be the Ford GT. You have no reason for liking it as much as you do other than the reason GT was in the title of the car, and the letters already came etched into the door with a silvery flare along with the number 40. 

She was truly a beautiful work of art, pristine white all around, well tracked soft rubber tires, a dark green stripe running from the hood to the back bumper. The paint was glossed and when exposed to light would shine with the ever most glory of being well kept. She had sleek well rounded curves. You could say you were very proud of this astonishing piece of work, and would flaunt if off whenever you could. If she was an actual lady, flesh and blood, you would ask her hand in marriage on the spot. Creepy that may be, you assume she would be positively elegant if she were to be a living, breathing being. 

You make your way right up to the Ford GT, which is parked closest to the outgoing door since you use it the most. You unlock the door and get in, placing your gun next to you in the passenger seat. When you start the car the headlights almost blind you due to the fact you have almost been surrounded in darkness for the past five minutes and this was surely an swift change for your eyes. 

You pull out of the garage and start to make your way to the streets. It was three in the morning during a power outage so you doubt there will be many cars around.

As you drive you pull out your phone and bring up a map. 

On one of the roads in the downtown area a red dot blinks. That’s him. That’s where he is. You always know where he is ever since you put a tracking device on the bottom of his boot. Obviously he doesn’t know about it and you’re surprised that it has been nearly three months and yet he hasn’t checked the bottom of his shoes yet. But whatever, that just makes it easier for you to find the poor, obnoxious fellow. 

Looking around at the city there are many lights out, few homes were merely saved by a back up power generator. You could run through stop lights with ease, though right now it didn’t even matter, so why the hell not? You put the pedal to the metal.

You drive at top speeds, going nearly twice as fast as the speed limit. Honestly you don’t give a shit if anyone caught you, it was just simple fun with a car built for speed and an expeditious way to your destination. Besides, even if you were caught by another hero or even the police, it wouldn’t matter, they would let you go once they found out who your father was. If it wasn’t for your nemesis you could get away with just about anything. 

With a quick glance down to your phone you spot the red blinking light on the map once again. You are nearly there and you press your foot further into the gas pedal. 

When you reach the downtown area you finally see him, and a devilish smirk crosses your lips and you slow your car significantly. 

There he is, your nemesis, hunched over and out of breath as one of the robots he has built charges at him. What’s even greater is the fact that he hasn’t noticed your presence yet, your car was pretty damn loud, the poor boy must have been deaf. 

Maybe tonight will be the night you finally win a battle against him. He is already weak and exhausted. This could be your chance to take him down and tell your father that you can be just as good as he is. Not once in the two years of knowing your rival have you been able to best him. You always come home bruised and beaten, but never will you give up. You only serve as a disappointment to your father. Sometimes he visits you to see your progress and tries his damned hardest to support your failures but most of the time you think he’s ready to disown you. 

Not tonight. You think this can really work out for you. As you watch him struggle to fend off the brobot it only makes you laugh. This will be so easy. 

Just for fun you rev up your engine. You watch him as he whips his attention from the oncoming robot to you. You see his lips move as his gaze drops on your car. 

“Fuck.” And even though you can only see the movement of his mouth, you feel as though you can hear the words as they drip from his lips. 

From the distraction he had forgot about the robot. You nearly laugh your knickers off --If you had or partook in the wearing of knickers that is-- as he gets tackled to the ground. Not once have you seen him this pathetic and there was a time where you thought you have seen him at a low. 

You reach over to your passenger seat and grab the guns that rest there. You fit them perfectly in your hands and grip them firmly. You love the feel of them, and their weight, it’s all just so comfortable to you. You just wouldn’t be the same without them. 

You open the door and step out of the Ford GT. Leaning against its frame, and a smug look draws all over your face as you call out to you nemesis who is struggling to fend of the brobot as they wrestle in the dirt.  
“Hey there Tailorbird. Having a bit of a tough brawl here, are we?” 

He says something back but but you can’t even understand him over his heavy breathing with the ravenous endeavor he is having. Or maybe he just didn’t hear you and was uttering some other nonsense under his breath. You clear your throat and say it again, this time a little louder and a little clearer. “Ahem, hey there Tailorbird. Having a bit of a tough brawl here, are we?”

You wait for him to reply but he is too caught up fighting the robot as his strength depletes. As much as you want to see the shit beat right out of him this was rather boring and pathetic. You were the one that actually wanted to be hovering over him and beating him to a pulp. How you would love to be the one pulling punches on him. It’s no fun if it’s not you that is the one who is doing it. 

With a deep sigh you hold up the gun held in your right hand and aim it at the brobot who now was now pinning your rival’s shoulders down and about to knee him in the stomach. With a roll of your eyes you pull the trigger. The blast of the laser bullet initiated from the gun rips the robots shoulder open. Twisted metal, bolts, and wiring goes everywhere, scattering along the ground. The body of the robot flies off of The Tailorbird and lands about a foot away from him.  


The body twitches merely a few times before it stops, its eyes fade from bright orange to nothingness, and what once was an artificial life form of exuberant intelligence now lay on the ground, cold and completely lifeless.

A thin trail of smoke runs into the cool night air from the gun. You watch as The Tailorbird sits up then slowly turns his attention to you. Your emerald green eyes stare into those of The Tailorbirds’; which flare in golden orange anger and hatred, but also show exhaustion and weakness through his askew goggles. His eyes glow from the electricity flowing through his body and bite right into you.

Oh how he hates you, he hates you so much, and to think you caught him at a time of vulnerability makes his hate grow until it’s visible to the naked eye. The way the hate snakes off his skin and into your own. The way a paltry electrical bolt dances around his gloved fingertips. He hates you so much and you love it like that. 

You lower the gun to your hip and a complacent smirk returns to your lips. “Hey Tailorbird, sorry for the destruction of something precious, but you weren't answering me before.” 

You get another cold glare from him. He puts a hand to his head and closes his eyes for a moment. After a moment of meditation he sets his shaded goggles straight. 

“I’m pretty sure I told you to fuck off about three times.” He retorts and and slowly gets to his feet. His legs are are a bit shaky and you can tell he is distressed. You pretend not to notice his unsteady legs or at least you try not to laugh at how pathetic he is. 

“Well Strider I assure you that I will not be doing anything of the such.” You begin. “From the look of it you aren’t doing too well, and I intend to use your poor state of health to my advantage.” 

A small frown crosses his face. His eyes flare a golden orange in defiance. 

“I don’t have time for this. I have shit to do, and it’s called sleep.” He grumbles. “I’m fucking tired if you can’t tell and I don’t want to do this right now.” 

Would you ever consider taking pity on your enemy? No! Well, you have done it a few times before but that never got you anywhere so for tonight, no! You won’t be taking pity on Strider’s poor soul... not tonight anyway.

“Oh boohoo you.” You sneer. “I have one chance to take you down and you think that I’m going to pass that bit up?” After a moment in which he doesn’t reply you raise an eyebrow, because you really want him to. This was your big moment after all, you wanted to seem as menacing possible. Or more then you have been in the past, though you’re pretty sure that will fail since many times before he has sent your ass home with tears streaming down your face. Nonetheless you will try to sound at least partially intimidating and hopefully not fail too bad at it. 

“Well?” You ask as you step out from behind your car door. As hefty as your guns are you twirl the left one in your hand just for some dramatic effect . “You think I would?” 

The Tailorbird stares at you. His breath is visible in the crisp night air. 

“I have no idea. I’m not you.” 

That wasn’t the answer you were expecting or wanted. You dropped the gun you were twirling out of surprise. A frown of annoyance crosses your face and you quickly pick it up. “The answer was no. A simple no. All you had to say was no Strider.” 

“Jesus fuck, excuse me for not being able to read your mind.” He puts his hands up in defence. The tone of his voice is a bit more snarky than you would have liked it. 

“You know what buster? I think I’m just going to go ahead and shoot you now. It’s best to put a suffering animal out of its misery.” Of course you are not really going to kill him. Just rough him up a bit with your left gun. Hopefully knock him out right where he stands. When he wakes up in the morning he will have no clue where he is or why! Yes, the perfect plan for the first ever time to have taken down your nemesis. You raise the left gun and aim it right at his face. “Any last words before I am finally able to beat you in a battle.” 

“Yes actually.” The Tailorbird says with his hands still in the air. You raise one brow as an indication for him to continue. “Okay first thing’s first. This isn’t a battle, you just stumbled your scrawny ass in here after the shit was already beat out of me.” He doesn’t even skip a beat, but there is still a tired itch to his voice. “Secondly, and the most important, how the fuck did you know I was here?” 

Drat! He is catching onto your ways. He could just be hiding it, but so far he still doesn’t seem to know about the tracker you put into his boot. You lower the gun in your hand just a tad. You rack up your brain to try to find a reasonable response. 

“A great villain must always know what his hero is doing at all times.” You answer back to him. 

“Oh? Is that correct?” He lowers his arms as you lower the gun. 

“Indeed it is. Why Strider, I always know what you are up to my dear fellow.” It’s not a lie, most days you really do know what he is up to. You don’t have anything better to be doing anyway. “I have to get to know your weaknesses to gain the upper hand right?”

You watch The Tailorbird as the corners of his lips turn upward. 

“Stalker.” His words are short and simple yet still they cut right through you. Stalker? No, no, no, you were no such thing. You would just blame it on your boredom or curiosity! Also the fact that you really did want to keep a better eye out on him. The more you know the better you might be, and maybe after tonight you can take him down a few more times. Wouldn’t your father be just, oh, so proud of you? The answer to that would be a most definite yes. But what was a most definite no, was the fact that Strider had the nerve to think you were a stalker. 

“A-a stalker? You think that I am a stalker because I just happen to know where you are?” You ask him and subconsciously pout as the words come from your mouth. 

“Um yeah. That and the other three hundred times you've shown up at random. Like dude, get a life.” Strider crosses his arms like some sassy preteen as he waits for answer. He likes the way he has just pinched a nerve, and how that small but noticeable frown lingers on your lips. 

“You have got it all wrong bub! A stalker I am not! Like I said before I merely want to know your weaknesses and catch you off guard. I wouldn’t call that being a stalker, instead I would call it studying.” At least you’re pretty sure that’s what you would call it. 

The Tailorbird rolls his eyes. You can’t see it from under his blasted goggles, but you just know he is. From the look he is giving you it’s almost obvious that he is. 

“Yeah?” He questions you. 

“Yeah!” You respond with smite. 

“What’s my favorite show, English?” He cocks his head to the side. 

Well of course you know the answer to that one. Just about anyone in their right mind would. “It’s obviously My Little Horsey.” You know that wasn’t right on the money but it was something quite similar, you are positive. 

A small breathy chuckle escapes Dirk. “It’s called My Little Pony, MLP for short. You’re not helping out your ‘stalker’ case any by answering me. How would you even know I like MLP?” 

Your expression is quick to turn to anger. Oh god does this man enrage you. You are not a stalker! Is knowing the enemy really all that bad? Is it a major sin in some psycho religion that he may have? “Okay listen here, I am not a stalker. Your love for that creepy childrens show is just painfully obvious! I mean I have heard you gawking about it before!” 

He seems to get your point when he takes more than a second to reply. It’s true he has said a few words on the subject of that show. “True enough, but what’s my favorite pair of underwear?” He askes you like he’s trying to toughen his questions. 

Psh, you knew that as well. “The orange ones with the little white hearts on them! You wear them all the time, more than it’s healthy-” Oh god no. Nope. That was something you really should not have said that. Now you have truly messed up. Your cheeks dust with color as you realize what you are saying and just how true it really is. So maybe just a few times you have caught him changing clothes for a job or decided to peek through his window at the wrong time. Wow you are such an idiot, how could you let that slip? “N-no! that isn’t what I meant! Uh… Oh goodness I promise I don’t know what your undies look like!” 

Saving yourself is hardly an option now, you have already said it. You see a light hue of pink also spread across Strider’s face, his expression remains the same though. 

“Would you like to continue to prove that you’re a stalker?” There is some edge to his voice followed by evident embarrassment and tiredness. 

You light up with chagrin and anger. “No I would not! I’m not a damn stalker no matter what you say, that was just a slip up!” You’re done with this nonsense. You’re not going to just stand around being insulted by this irate jerk. He’s so smug and prudish even when you thought he was at his weakest moments. God he makes you so mad. You didn’t set out to converse about about any habits of yours that may be considered stalkerish, you set out to take Strider down once and for - well just at least for today! You once again aim the gun to his face. “I’ve had it with you Tailorbird!” You bellow. “Now I’ll ask one more time, any last words? And I don't want a whole damn conversation with you, just say some dumb fuckery and get it over with!” 

He sighs. “Alright, fine.” He doesn’t say anything after that. 

Was he thinking of something to say or was that it? 

“Is that all you’ve got? Nothing else to say?” You question him suspiciously. You would think he would have more to say since he was about to be beat down for the first time in a very long while and by none other than you. 

“Oh right last words,” He pauses for a second. “Yeah. Goodbye.” 

It really catches you off guard. ‘‘Goodbye?’ What on Earth does that mean?’ Well of course you know what it means but not in context of what he was saying. Not until you see a flash of light flare from his hands, aimed straight at you and him running away as fast as his legs would let him. 

“Blimey!” You pull your gun close and duck for cover behind your car door. How could you have let your guard down like that? You’re such a dolt! He had probably been charging his energy the whole damn time you were talking! 

The blast hits your car. Your precious Ford GT The sound of the twisting, warping, and bending aluminum makes you cringe. The windshield explodes and glass litters the ground along with the insides of your car. The door slams against your left shoulder in a crushing blow as you have tried to cower behind it, crouching with your hands shield your face and guns dropped on the ground. . After a few seconds of sitting still you think is safe to come out of cover and you rise to your feet. 

Your shoulder smarts in pain as you rise but it can’t be more than a bruise. You look to your car. Oh god she was mess. Your beautiful gal was completely ruined! Glass trashes, broken, among the seats, the hood tossed up and bent in every direction. Dust and dirt settled all over from the blast. Her electrical work is now completely fried and shut off, forever. It was like seeing a child in pain. Absolutely unbeatable! How could this have happened to your Ford GT?! Well you know how, but how could you have let this happen?! Your heart hurt as if you are experiencing a death in the family, and you practically are. You look off in the distance, you can see Strider fleeing down the roads already a far distance for his poor health conditions. 

A sudden rage engulfs you. That man is the only one who can piss you off this much! You can still win this battle though! A sudden wave of adrenaline hits you. Yes! That’s right, you could still have this in the bag, he is still weak, and other than the pain shooting through your shoulder, you would consider yourself still strong. 

You suddenly take off after him, going as fast as your legs would take you. There was no way he was getting away this time!- 

Your foot catches on something sending you crashing onto the dusty ground. Dust swirls around you when you hit the hardened ground making you cough a few times as it fills your lungs. Your rib cage aches from the impact. Turning your head you look to see what you fell over. It was Strider’s damned robot! That fucker set you up! He knew all of this would happen you’re sure of it! 

When you look at Strider once more he is farther away but still in range of a good gunshot wound. That's right if you can’t catch up to him you could always just bloody shoot him. A perfect idea. That’s when you realize how light your hands feel. There was no extra weight to them. No sturdy feel. No comfortable grip. You being the idiot you are left them at the car when you dropped them to take cover. 

Just laying there, over the dead robot carcass, you suddenly feel so empty. This was your one chance. It’s the easiest chance you have ever had and you had just ruined it like the imbecile you are. You let your rival slip right through your fingers, just like you always do. Everything you do just leads you one step closer to being an absolute failure, and one thing more to add on to your fathers list of disappointments. You don’t think you could ever make him proud, not in the slightest, and not now at least. 

All motivation to catch up, or take down The Tailorbird is now diminished. With the last bit of rage you hold within, you call out to him. 

“STRIDER, YOU ASS HAT!” You lay your face in your arms in pure defeat. Your head hurts and your heart aches, at the moment you just want no more of this brutal nonsense. Your finished. You have given up for now. 

Though you can’t see your nemesis running anymore, you swear you can hear his laughter as an echo in the night. 

Oh how you hate him so.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My computer was having troubles which is the reasoning behind the long wait for the update. I had to send it away for a few weeks, but hey, now I have it back! Hopefully now I can get a the regular monthly updates out. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new chapter of my take on the Superstuck AU.

Your name is Dirk Strider, and you think that you’re about to pass out. 

By the time you reach you apartments soreness courses throughout your body. Every limb aches and your vision is starting to blur.

The worst part of getting home has to be the long trek up the staircase to get to your apartment number which just so happens to be on the top floor. Lucky you. 

Every step you take it feels like your calves are going to explode. You pray to some nonexistent god to help you out in your time of need, because honestly you’re about to die. You have pushed your body over its limit. 

You reek of pure death when you finally get through your apartment door. You have a pounding headache. Your face hurts, a dark bruise is starting to form on your cheek. Your side along with every other part of your beaten body twinges  
in overwhelming pain. It has really been a harsh night. Or morning, Whatever. 

Stripping off your goggles you stumble over to the couch and collapse on it. You toss the goggles on the floor and kick your high boots off as well. They had been scratching against the back of your knees, every movement uncomfortable and nearly unbearable. You lie on the couch hoping to get some rest. If you manage, and you assume you will, it would be the first time in days you have gotten a decent sleep. 

General Terror, that damned bastard. He’s so pathetic and worthless, ugh, but still he manages to get under your skin. That fucker just seems to show up at random wherever you are. At least he stays away from your home. That’s the only peace he ever gives you. For over a year now he finds the pleasure in trying to beat your ass into the ground. 

Even though he can’t defeat you he tries his hardest, and at times its really annoying. He needs to just give up already. You think that he should just get a new profession, because quite frankly and quite obviously the one he has now isn’t working out for him. He is so spoiled rotten that he practically just does it for a hobby. Does he even have a real job outside of making your life a living hell? 

Most of the other heroes you know don’t have some daft, idiotic villain following them all around the damn town. They just set out to save the city as their duty calls. But you? You have the extra weight to carry around called Jake English.  


Your mind switches channels to the robot that you lost today. You’re going to have to replace that. You spent weeks on it only for it to be faulty. You could have fixed it if English hadn’t had blown it’s shoulder along with half of its chest off. Heck, maybe if he hadn’t had shown up at all you could have still dismantled the robot, then fixed it later. 

You knew that was a lie. To some extent Jake’s failures helped you out. He made you live another day per say. Maybe that’s one thing you should thank him for later and the only thing you will ever be thanking him for. 

Right now you are honestly tired of thinking about him. You’re tired in general, and you just need a exceptionally good rest. 

Closing your eyes you let well needed sleep take over you. 

***

Your name is Jake English and you never thought you would be having a funeral for your car as two policemen stood around and watched. 

You sniffle ,bringing a hand up to wipe away your tears. “...she will always stay in my heart. I loved her so dearly. She will be missed.” You break down and start crying on to the policeman’s shoulder who had made the mistake of standing next to you. He looks a tad bit uncomfortable and scoots away from you, now leaving you to weep into your hands. You honestly don’t even know if your tears are genuine or just for a theatrical sense. 

“A beautiful eulogy.” The other policeman says sarcastically before giving a wave to the tow truck driver who has your car attached to the back of it, in which the driver gives a thumbs up in return and starts to drive away. 

You knew that was the last time you would ever see that babe again. Your beautiful Ford GT. That poor gal was now going to either be scrapped for savable parts or metal. Damn that Strider for making this happen! 

You quickly wipe up your tears as the policeman turns to you. “What are you even doing out this late? It’s nearly four in the morning, and here you are racking up trouble.” 

A sigh escapes you, as a street light flickers indicating that the power might be coming back soon. 

“I’m here because I was trying to take down my nemesis!” Turning you look at your car being towed off in the distance. “And look what he did to my car!” You dramatically wave your arms over to the fading image. 

The closest cop puts a hand on your shoulder. “You’re that villain kid who runs around causing trouble aren’t you?” 

“Yes.” You admit and hunch over slightly as his hand rests on you. It makes you oddly uncomfortable even though it was supposed to be a friendly motion. “Also I am not a kid, I am a full grown man. I turned twenty one just a few months ago!” 

The police man lightly chuckles at you. “Well you sure do cry like a kid.” 

“Oh stuff it!” You say scowling at his comment. 

“Fine. Fine.” The cop says and puts his hand back down to his side. 

The other policeman decides it’s the right time to join in. “Hey, speaking of ‘fine’ we heard the the destruction around here was caused by you.” He crosses his arms once he makes his way over to you. His stereotypical mustache nearly makes you cringe, but what really wanted to make you cringe was the fact that he was blaming this mutiny on you! 

“What?!” They have it all wrong, that wasn’t you that was The Tailorbird and his robot! Just because you acknowledge yourself as a villain doesn’t mean you spend your days destroying your landscape as every cop seems to assume. “No sir, that was not me! Let me tell you that it was The Tailorbird! He was the one who did this all, not me!” 

“Sure. We believe you bud.” The cop standing next to you says in a rather disparaging tone. 

“Let me go write that up for you.” The cliche mustache policeman goes to the cop car to give you a ticket. 

You pinch the bridge of your nose. God, this made you so aggravated. You stand and wait for the mustache cop to get back with your fine. Those fucking pricks! They didn’t even let you explain the who story let alone plead your innocence. Is this really how the justice system works? Assuming someone caused trouble because of their title and automatically punishing them for it? 

If that is the case here, then some things need to be switch around pronto! You were NOT going to stand around and take the punishment for something you didn’t do based upon the fact you call yourself a villain. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time so to say. 

The policeman returns and hands you your fine. You snatch it from his hands and take a good look at all the money you will have to pay. Your mouth twitches into a frown as soon as you see the exhilarating price which you will have to pay. 

“Just put me in prison why don’t you?” You whine. “The damage can’t possibly cost this much. Do you even know who I am?!” 

“We have a pretty good guess on who you are.” The cop closest to you says. “That’s the whole reason we’re not putting you in jail. Just pay the fine and you’ll be set.” 

Oh? So they do know who your father is? The most dastardly super villain of all times, Lord English. He was the most feared and despicable evil doer of all times. Over the course of three years he had ruled over the neighboring city, after he had beat down the cities soul protectors, superheroes. 

Your father still holds a higher up standing over the city, Dersity. He is practically the mayor, or the dictator over a small country. That is exactly how you strive to be. A dastardly villain will has control over everything. 

For one year you have been working diligently at it. Or trying at least. It may have taken your father only a month or so to take the city down, but that won’t stop you from trying to take Skaiopolis, even if another year zips right by you. 

“Is that so?” You ask and raise an eyebrow. “What if I go to my father right now and tell him about this whole pardicimet, would you still fine me?” 

The police stare and you in thought. “Listen kid,” The one with the gross mustache starts to speak. “You just pay off the debt, that’s it, nothing more.”

Anger once more flood through you. “So you’re telling me to pay off a ticket for something that you’re not even sure I did?”

The other cop shakes his head. “No, we know you did it. There was an eyewitness who saw the whole thing.” 

An eyewitness? You are pretty sure there was no one around. Even you were not around when it happened! This is complete baloney! All you ever did was show up, gripe with your face in the ground after the agonizing defeat, and then the police just showed up. 

The cop continues. “They kept themselves anonymous, but from what they described, it could have been no one else but you causing this damage.” 

If you had to guess who called you in, it would probably be Strider. For someone who’s supposed to be the good guy, he sure does cause you a lot of pain. 

“God damn it!” You growl. You are so fed up at the moment, honestly you don’t even care anymore. You’ll just take the damn ticket and go home. Easy peasy, because you are done with this rubbish. “Whatever. You know what? I’ll pay off the damn ticket!” 

You shove the ticket in your pocket and grumble a few words to yourself, then cross your arms. 

The police seem rather pleased by your actions. It would appear they thought you would put up more of a fight or actually get ahold of your father. You would have done just that but first of all you aren’t in the mood to get screamed at by your father, and secondly going straight home and curling up in a nice warm bed was quite the alluring image. 

“Thank you son, if you could do that soon it would be well appreciated.” 

Ugh, you just want to roll your eyes at them. “Yeah, yeah, I will.” You grumble. 

At least this mess could be considered over now. As long as you pay off the fine you won’t be hounded by the police anytime soon. 

The police man without the sensationally ghastly mustache goes back to the cop car. The other stays behind. 

“Also, is that yours?” The mustache cop extends a finger and points to the robot body laying on the ground. The cold steel glows in the dim moonlight. 

At first you want to say no. You want to shout it in his face. That atrocity was not your creation. You would only ever dream of making a machine that could cause so much damage in such little time. You could only wish to have some sort of mechanism to take down the whole city with. 

Wait a moment. 

The more thought you put into it the more appeasing of an idea it was that the brobot was is actually yours. Maybe, if you could fix him and tweak his engineering, he could become a cold blooded, killing machine. 

“That dusty old robot there? Why yes, that contraption belongs to none other than I. Why, only my brains and suitable intelligence could build such a device.” You say with a small smirk fixed on your lips. If Strider just up and left the robot, then doesn’t that mean it’s yours to keep now? Besides, you enjoy the small white lie you tell to the police, maybe they will assume you are smarter than you actually are. Not that you were an idiot or anything, but you’re sure Strider would beg to differ. 

You have dabbled in machinery before. Only a few times have you built some thrifty gadgets that work to your liking, but none to this exquisite expertise. You hate to admit it but perhaps you could learn from Strider’s work as well.  
The policeman waves you off and gets to his car, leaving you alone as he drives off. 

With no other choices left you call a cab. There was no way you were just going to walk home. Honestly, you miss your car already. She didn’t deserve that kind of death. 

When the cab arrives it takes you nearly ten minutes to drag the heavy body of the robot to the trunk. It took a lot of effort, the damn thing was so heavy. Everything about this whole situation is painfully awkward. You are all dressed up in your villain getup, with your gun sitting by your lap, and a dead robot in the back. The whole trip consists of the cab driver mumbling curses to himself about how he didn’t want to be out driving this late, and you couldn’t blame him either. 

You thank God by the time you get home and the lights are turned on. At least the power had come back on..

Dragging the dead robot body out of your car proved to be a hassle. It may have caused the cab driver to spit a few curses at you, but why would you care about that? Its not like you were going to pay him anyway. 

It takes you for freaking ever to get both your guns and the robot body to your room inside your evil lair. The combination of the three really put a lot of stress on your arms, once you let go and they all dropped to the ground relief followed by aching was present in your biceps. 

Not but a minute after you “gently” placing your guns on the floor next to the robot, (more like tossing them aside) you jump right on you bed, landing face down into your comfy sheets. It felt so great to relax. 

*** 

Your head is pounding in the morning. It doesn’t help that there is a faint ringing noise off in the distance. As you open your eyes and your consciousness returns the ringing only proceeds to get louder. Soon to your realization the phone next to your bedstand has been going off. 

Drowsily you prop yourself up on one elbow and run a hand through your hair, when only moments later the noise stops. Your hair is honestly disgusting, its greasy with nasty bed head, and not what you would consider calling well kept. It comes to mind that you have missed a few showers this week. Oh well, you don't necessarily smell bad so you can deal with that later. 

You sit all the way up right in your bed. You are still in your villain attire and you haven’t taken it off, though you thought you did last night, and obviously you didn’t. You are surprised that you didn’t wake up and take it off earlier, but you must have been so darn tired that your slumber was the equivalent to a bears’. 

Goodness, it still seems like you have even slept with your glasses on by your acceptable vision. You bring a hand up to your face to make sure. Yep, they are still there. 

Someone must have tranquilized you for you to have been that tired, and even now you ache with exhaustion, feeling drained of energy. 

A sudden noise makes you jump but with the turn of your head to your nightstand you apprehend that the phone is ringing yet again. Who on Earth wants to talk to you so badly at nine in the morning? At least you assume it is nine A.M. due to the soft, yellow, light filtering through your window blinds. 

Sluggishly you reach over and pick up your phone. The ringing was so loud and obnoxious it was like you have a hangover. Quickly you press the accept button on the phone and answer in a voice more monotone than your liking. “Hello? Do you have any idea what a man of my superior liking is doing at this moment in time?” 

“Yes.” The voice answers solemnly. You know who it is, and it nearly makes your heart sink to your stomach. “I think it’s time for my lazy son to get his ass to work.” 

Your fingers wrap tightly around the phone, turning your knuckles nearly white. This call wasn’t one you were expecting at all. “O-oh Father! I didn’t know it was you, I’m so terribly sorry.” Oh God, you knew you said the wrong thing. A simple hello would have sufficed, but damn your fast thinking and overly active ego!

“Don’t be sorry, God damn it, you are always sorry. Just shut up and check the caller I.D. next time.” You can tell he is angry. At the moment he sounds calm, but he is always angry to some extent. 

“Right, sor- uh, right…” You answer, suddenly feeling ashamed of the mistake you had almost made. “So, Father, why are you calling me? If I may ask that is.” Usually when he calls you it’s either to give you some fancy new equipment, a scolding, or to say he is going to visit for a week or two. You really hope it’s the fancy new equipment one. You’ve been needing a few extra parts for gun repairs. 

“That is actually an acceptable question coming from a person of the likes of you.” The voice responds. Sometimes the things your father would say to you would hurt, cut deep in the flesh like a knife, but now on most occasions you are used to the verbal abuse. “I’m coming down to visit for a few weeks. I want the city in ruins by the time I leave, and I want you to be the one to hold responsibility for the destruction of Skaiopolis. I do not even want to state the consequences if you are not able to execute that task. Especially when I am by your side to guide you.”

You swallow hard fearing what they might be. “I won’t fail you.” Those were the only words that left your lips but the moment you said them you knew it was another mistake. There is a pause on the other line before a loud, mocking, laughing begins. 

“What do you mean you won’t fail me? Every other damn day you fail me! You’re a huge embarrassment to every villain out there.” The laughter dies away. “You’re overconfident and show pride of a thousand lions;. That stuff isn’t fucking needed, Jake, Stop flaunting and get shit done!” He goes quiet for you to answer but your throat closes up and you can’t. You hate that the words he says hold truth to them. When you don’t answer and the space of silence is long overdue he speaks again, this time in a slightly softer tone, if you weren’t his son then you would be none the wiser and think he was still trying to bite your head off over the phone. “Though, I am hoping to change that. When I arrive next week I  
am going to shape you into that man I once was. No more doing things your way, they always turn to shit. From now on, it will be my way.” 

Oh no. This isn’t what you wanted to hear, not at all. “B-but Father my ways are going good! I swear I-” 

“You swear what? That things are actually going your way?” He scoffs. “Have you even taken down your so called nemesis yet. You know, the one you have sworn to take down for years?” 

“I know, I know, but if you can just give me a chance. Please and I’ll-” 

“I have given you chances! Chances upon fucking chances!” He yells so loudly into the phone you have to pull it away from your ear. You silently curse yourself. You didn’t want to get him this worked up, yet, now he is. 

“No, no, no! Please Father just hear me out.” If he could see you right now you would be off your bed and on your knees begging. 

There is a large sigh followed by silence on the other line. You expect you can continue, at least you hope so. 

“Two weeks. That’s all I need and I can take that damn Dirk Strider- I mean Tailorbird down! And in a months time I will have the whole city bowing to me on their hands and knees, chanting my name, executing orders at my every whim.” You don’t even know where all of this is coming from. It’s just spilling out of your mouth like a waterfall in hopes that you father won’t be coming over anytime in the near future. He is too forceful with his work and you hate it. Not only that, you get treated like some sort of dog, a mutt for pitting. A pawn. A long distance relationship is really what works best here. you don’t need his hands on help.. 

You wait for an answer. The silence on the other line is almost torture. When a voice finally does speak you jump from surprise. “So you are asking for a month? And in one month, and one month exactly, you will have the city at your command?” His voice is low, suspicious, he most definitely doesn’t believe you. 

“Yes Father, indubitably so. I promise, and if I am not able to succeed then you may arrive at my house, and do whatever you must.” You try to sound as confident as you can, maybe that way you will seem more believable. With both hands on the phone you wait for the reply. He is really thinking hard about this. 

“Fine. One month, no longer than that.”

Your heart skips a beat with joy. Maybe he doesn’t consider you a complete failure. Or he does, but just wants to see how badly you’ll screw up this time. 

“I will still be showing my face at your home, it will be when the month is up.” Okay, so he’ll still show up, but now you have some time to work with at least. “I want the city destroyed, in ruins. The people obeying only you, doing everything just as you say. If not, then things go my way, whether you like it or not. One month was how long it took me to take down the city, I expect you to do the same. Got it?” 

“Yes! I’ve got it!” You nod you head in agreement even though it is impossible for him to see you. “I’ve got it all down pat!” 

“See you then. The month starts today. Get working.” His voice is stern and unwavering. After a seconds pause there is a click and the line goes dead. 

A huff of air escapes you in relief that the conversation is finally over, but now you have other things to worry about. You have no clue what you are even going to do, or how to even start. Time was far too limited.  


You put the phone back on your bed stand and run a hand through your nasty, dark, bed hair. Why must you get yourself into these situations? 

Swinging your legs over the edge of the bed you stand up. You know for sure that you have to begin with taking down Strider. God, but where to start? You really have no damn clue. Your eyes flicker over to the silver robot body lying on your floor, just as you have left it the night before. 

You walk over to it, crouching next to the body. It’s in rough shape from the previous nights’ events. You looks over the disheveled robot as a small smirk finds its way upon your face. 

Then again, you might have an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the plot begins to blossom.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jake pays a visit to Equius in hopes of getting the destroyed brobot fixed. Perhaps it will be used for...evil? DUN DUN DUUUN!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I haven't worked on this in a long while. What I'm posting now is a chapter that is split into two parts, both of which I made over a year ago. Yeah... whoops. But hey, I like this story, its fun, so I'll continue. (Though my writing might have improved over the year. Which you all won't get to see until after the next chapter.)

Your name is Jake English, and at the moment you are driving fast over the speed limit.

It might just be the fact that you’re trying to conserve time, or perhaps it might be because you are using a brand new car, either way you have your hands clenched tightly on the steering wheel with no thought of slowing down until you reach your destination. 

The car that you are currently using now is a Ferrari LaFerrari. It was your next pick in the lineup of cars that you will someday inevitably smash to pieces. 

You start to slow down to a nice medium pace as you enter a rather rich neighborhood with closed pearl white gates. You come to a halt in front of them, roll your window down, and punch a code into the security box that allowed people to enter the gated community. The gates open and you roll your car in. 

The driveway that you pull into is paved with brick and lined with forest green, and neatly trimmed hedges. A large house sits in front of you, three stories tall if you count the walk-in attic, and an absolutely massive perimeter. You would outright say the house is gigantic, though your own house is bigger. 

Unbuckling your seatbelt you step out of the car and head to the front door of the tall, white, house with deep blue shutters and door. You straighten out your clothing and brush your cargo shorts free of any dust that may have found its way onto you. 

You stand stiff and puffing your chest out, giving yourself a look of superiority, then you proceed to give a sturdy knock on the door. 

After about a minute of waiting the door swings open. A man with jet black, shoulder length hair stands, towering over your much smaller structure. It is half the reason you try to stand tall and look brave in front of him. He is such a giant person. 

Equius Zahhak is his name. Though he might be the second most intimidating person you have met (other than your own father of course) he is also your loyal henchman per say. 

He opens the door with strong confidence but as soon as he sees that it is you standing in front of him his shoulder start to slouch. “Ah…Sir. I wasn’t expecting you this morning.” His shoulders stoop.

Equius should always be on his toes, on the lookout for you presence. It served a cold platter of disappointment to you that he wasn’t. “Yes, well let’s skip our silly introductions and get straight to the point shall we?” You say with a surge of confidence to your voice. 

“Sure, if that is what needs to be done.” He puts his hand on the doorway and at least looks somewhat intent one what you have to say. 

“You see, I thought I would pay you a visit because I need a task done and pronto! With my brilliant mastermind I have managed to wrap my hands around one of striders inventions; to have it fixed to my every whim and need would be a wonderful pleasure, dear chap.” You bat your eyes at him as if to say ‘pretty please’ like a spoiled brat would. It’s not like you’re far off. 

“Hmmm…” Equius puts a hand up to his chin in thought. “It might be possible to bite into my schedule. I don’t mean to complain but I am busy with other things.” 

The corners of your lips turn downwards. This was a tad bit worrying and you didn’t have time for this. Equius might just be your only hope. You cross your arms. “I’m stuck in a boat load of hullabaloo, requiring your aid, and you say you just have other things?!” 

“I may be your henchman but I do have other clients.” He stands up straight. “Forgive me if I am being rude.” 

You can’t help but feel a mad blast of fury course through you. Oh no, this was just absolutely unacceptable! In all of the devil dickens times, why must this be happening now? You look at him in complete silence for a moment, when you speak again your tone has diluted from its slight upbeat ring. “Well my good fellow, I can assure you that you are indeed being rude. Perhaps you will change your mind if you hear of the predicament I am in?” 

Equius sighs. 

You give a somewhat nasty glare back at him and near him in an act of intimidation. You don’t know if it works. You aren’t exactly what one would call a fierce beast that strikes the fear into his enemies. At least you could get an A+ for trying, right? 

“Alright. Impress me with your equestrianly big problem then, dear horsemaster.” He crosses his arms. 

You let out a small huff of air for your small victory. “Hear me out now. So this morning I have received an unexpected call from my father. You remember that old chap right? The big baddie, Lord English, who was the greatest supervillain to have ever walked this Earth, EVER?” 

“Yes you have informed me time and time again of his excellence.” 

“Yes of course, he is the absolute best!” You smile to yourself just think of all your father’s accomplishments, and the fact that you were his son. Except there were those days he might scare the living heebie-jeebies out of you. “Anyway he gave me a call that scared my socks off saying that I only have one dagblasted month to take the city of Skaiopolis down!” You clench your fists. 

“Mmhhmm…” Equius nods. “That doesn’t lessen work on my shoulders.” 

“You don’t understand! I need all of the sustenance I can get my hands on the wiggle out of this tricky situation of utter wish-wash.” 

“Yes?” He arches an eyebrow seemingly as an invitation to continue. 

“Ugh, meaning I need your help you big lug! Now that I have robot of striders I need it fixed. So if you fix it, the repaired robot could be the next step in taking that blasted Strider down, then demolishing the city.”  
“Hmm…I can help you, get benefits…or… let you lose and laugh later.” He stares off in the space just above your head contemplating this idea while he rubs his chin. 

Honestly you cannot believe him right now. “Uh, benefits please? Come on now, don’t make me get on my hands and knees and beg you for this.” You are positively sure that you might just be that desperate.  
“As appealing as that is, and truly it is, I’ll humor you for now.” 

You swear your heart skips a beat with joy. 

“Let me take a look at the bot. I shall see its workings then decide. Fair?” 

It’s good enough, you’ll take it. You doubt that Equius could even really say no to you anyway, well as long as you beg. 

“Great! I will see that you will find it in excellent condition, though…I may have blown its arm off. Heh.” You give him a guilty smile.

Equius rolls his eyes behind his sunglasses. “Yes, because keeping it in near perfect condition is impossible for you.” 

“Well, I wasn’t quite in the mood for it to ravage my body.” You turn around on heel. “I’ll go get that pesky contraption from the car now.” You jump off the step that leads to the front door and start to walk down the driveway to your car. 

Equius waits by the door and leans against its frame with his arms still crossed. “Please just hurry. I’d hate to have my reputation and business ruined by your lack of speed.” 

“Oh for the love of Jesus Christopher…” You grumble and pick you pace up to a nice and even fast walk as you get to the passengers door of the car. You open the door and see that brobot is safely buckled in. You bend down to unbuckle it and call out to Equius. “Hold up a minute, I’ve got this big guy buckled in good!” 

Equius sighs and shakes his head. 

After a good minute of wrestling with the seatbelt you finally manage to undo the buckle. You drag the robot out of the car. It slips right out of your hands with the sudden weight from the heavy metal and its body clashes to the ground. A loud noise rings through the air. You look to Equius to see if he even noticed that little mishap. 

He stares off, looking up at the sky, pretending like he didn’t see a thing. “Urm, just a moment it’s a bit heavy.” 

“Maybe with your trifling strength.” He retorts. 

You frown back at him then continue to drag the robot by its good arm back to the house. “It would be a lot easier to do this if perhaps someone who is strong and mighty could help me?” You hint at him.  
As you attempt to walk the robot drags against the brick. It creates a noise similar to fingernails grinding against a chalkboard. 

Equius face-palms and groans. “Just hurry and bring it inside. I’ll wait in there.” He turns and walks back inside. He leaves the door wide open for easy access. 

You squint your eyes at his disappearing figure and sneer. Looks like someone forgot his morning glass of milk. 

The arm of the robot that is currently not being dragged along is barley even being held on by a screw. As you walk through the doorway the arm clanks and clatters up the stairs. You grumble about him not even trying to help you carry the hefty contraption. 

“Don’t scratch the floor too much.” Equius calls from another room near the back of his house which is where his workshop lies. 

You follow his voice and wind up in a smaller, grey, closed of room. Animatronics, scrap metal, along with various parts, nuts, blots, and wires scatter among the floor and desk that are placed in the room. It is honestly a giant mess, but it’s better than being in some other parts of the fellow’s house. Some items in Equius’s humble abode are a bit… unsightly. 

As of catching sight of Equius you let go of the robot and it drops to the ground, resulting in yet another loud din. Putting a hand to your back you sigh and hunch over slightly. A slow ache starts to settle into your arms. “Gee willikers that sure is some heavy machinery.” 

Equius opens a drawer and pulls out a few tools. He places them onto the table before getting out a pair of goggles complete with a magnifying glass and puts them on. “I’m not surprised. Your rival knows how to build them well after all.” He says it has be puts on a pair of heavy leather gloves. 

“Ha! Except for this one had a bit of a malfunction. I found it beating the total shit out of him, so I killed it and took it as a prize.” Strider was good, but not as good as some would think. (And yet you still wished you could even manage to put together a few trinkets correctly.) 

“…Hmm…” Equius glances at you with a raised eyebrow before picking the brobot up off the ground with one hand and throwing in on the nearby table. He sits down in the chair and leans over the robot body. He picks up the broken arm and moves it around a bit. It falls off from the one blot that held it together. Equius frowns and places the dismembered arm back next to its side. “You said you killed this one because it was hurting Strider, not you, correct?” 

“Yes. Well- you see I wanted him for myself,” You peek over his shoulder to see what he is doing. “It is no fun when a robot is the one hovering over him, making him black and blue.” You think for a fraction of a second. “Though, if I had gotten that phone call from my father earlier I would have gladly let that robot finish the job.” 

Equius huffs out a small bit of laughter before covering it with a cough. 

“Hm? Something the matter?” You cross your arms and look down at him. For once you can say that you are taller than him while in this position. 

“So… you wanted Strider for yourself did you?” He grins as he undoes a panel on the robots chest to check the wiring. 

You give a curt nod even though he probably can’t see you. “I quite did. Or still do.” You look down at his face. “What’s with the goody, dandy smile? Is checking a robot TOO fun for you pal? I personally never found it a marvelous activity, even if I wish to pick up a few techniques.” 

He doesn’t let his smile go as he speaks. “I just find it amusing that you imply that the supervillain lusts for the superhero. That is all.” 

You feel like you have be transported in to a time of war. A bombshell has just gone off near you as your ears fall deaf and the shock consumes you into an unmoving state. You have no idea where he would get such an accusation. There was no romantic- or even sexual tension between Dirk and yourself. Why that was certain tom foolery! 

When reality catches back up, you take a step back and furrow your brow. “I-I’m not implying that at all! Why I- no! Just simply, and utterly no! “You can feel the heat buildup on your cheeks. This was no good, now Equius has you flustered about something completely idiotic. 

“Really? You’re not?” He scoots his chair closer to the edge of the table. He pulls out a small microchip with a pair of tweezers and examines it under his magnifying glass. 

“Yes really! I want him, but not like that! I just want to rough him up a bit and, I don’t know, give him a good kick to the rib cage while he’s down.” 

“Are you sure?” Equius starts to out the bot back together, replacing anything he has taken apart. 

“Positive.” You put your hands on your hips. “Why, do you suspect differently?” 

“Now that’s not any of my business.” He leans back in his seat and gives you a small smirk back. “I’m just a ‘hitchman’ after all.” 

“Ugh! Just cram it okay!” You let your hands fall back to your sides. “Just tell the deal with the robot so I can be on my way, yes?” You really wish he would not say such things. You never had an attraction to Strider, or will you never, have an attraction to Strider. 

Besides, your whole life you have been the one to woo the ladies. Never before have you dated anyone other than a woman. 

Yep, here you are, straight as whistle. 

“Right then.” Equius says. He puts his hands on the back of his head and entwines his fingers. “It will be fixable, but I am not sure when I will have it done.” 

“How about three days?” You give him a wide and hopeful grin. He only scoffs at you. 

“I am a fast worker, but I won’t be appeasing you with magic tricks, sir. It will be more like three weeks.”

Your heart sinks to the pit of your stomach. “No, you don’t get it do you? I was given only a month to complete my mission. In three weeks Strider should already be out of the equation and I should be well on my way to rooting this city off the map.” 

Equius thinks for a second and puts his hands in his lap. He turns back to face the robot. “I’m still giving it three weeks. With all of my other clients there is no way in all of equestrian heck that-“

“I-I’ll pay you double! Triple! I’ll throw in a seat beside my kingly throne once I take over, but please, please just get this done as fast as you can.” You grab his chair and with great force you turn him to look at you. “Look, disregard any other mumbo jumbo jobs you have to do and do this, and only this for me.” You are so close to him right now. Your eyes are wide and desperate words fall from your mouth like a waterfall. 

“I...” For the first time in a long time you think you catch a hint of nervousness in Equius’s voice. You must look like some maniac. Or perhaps he is deeply think about considering action. He better, you need this badly. More than he thinks. More than you even think. “Perhaps if…” 

“’Perhaps if’ what?” You repeat back quickly. 

“Perhaps, my great horsemaster, if you refund all of my client’s money. Also you pay me triple, and promise a tyrannical ruling of my own over a section of the city. That would make it a deal on my end, and if I work hard enough I can get the finished and working bot to you in – let’s say- three, maybe four, days.”

“Deal!” You mouth moves so fast you aren’t even sure what you are agreeing to but you don’t care, you just need this done. 

“Is it?” 

“Yes it is! I have minor previsions I need you to make on the robot, but yes, it’s a deal!” You back away from his chair and stand you straight. That was a relief. 

Equius stands as well. He looms over and holds out a hand. “Then a deal it is sir.” 

You shake his hand as a grin spreads quickly across your lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This obviously isn't the most interesting chapter, I saved that for the next one. This is mostly filler, fleshing out character relationships, also I thought a conversation with Equius and Jake would be quite cute.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well since I got the next chapter done earlier than scheduled I'm going to go ahead an post this one. This is still in my old writing though. But honestly I don't think that matters too much because the only change in my writing now is that I'm ten times more sarcastic.

Your name is Dirk Strider and at the moment you can say that you are feeling content. It has been a few days since last seeing your nemesis and it has honestly been quite relaxing. It gives a guy time to think. 

Right now you are in bliss. Seated at the central city café you slowly sip a cup of freshly brewed coffee while Jane Crocker, otherwise known in her superhero disguise as Giggling Gumdrop, sits next to you making idle conversation and chats about how the adventure you both went on today in some side by side crime fighting. 

The coffee shop was sweet and simple. It consisted or nice warm color and decorations that you might find hanging up at a Grandmother’s house. It smelled of sugar, honey, cinnamon, but most of all coffee. It felt more like home than your own trashy, shit stained apartment. Honestly this place was fairly nice. You’re glad that Jane decided to treat you here. 

You wish every fucking day would be like this. 

Relaxing.

It’s the only word that passes your thoughts. 

You bring the cup of hot, vanilla coffee up to your face. It smells heavenly and you take a small sip, letting the substance warm your insides. 

Jane giggles next to you. “The way you socked that son of a gun in the mouth made my day! Tailorbird, I’ve never seen a grown man cry so much.” 

Clearly she hasn’t gotten to know Jake well enough. The guy must have a scheduled crying routine.   
Ugh, why the fuck did you just think or him? Your mind should be a hundred percent off him right now.

Swallowing the coffee you bring the cup down. “Yeah well, the fucker deserved it.” You shrug casually as you try not to take pride in what you did. It was pretty hilarious though. “It’s not like he had even adept fighting skills anyway.”

“Well I still almost got secondhand embarrassment!” She laughs and drinks from the cup of hot coco that she ordered. “Is it wrong that I almost feel sorry for him, and yet I gladly want to see that action packed punch once more?” 

“Hell no, it’s almost honoring. Feeling sorry for him on the other hand, I’ll just let that pass.” You crack a small smile at her and she grins back. 

As you pick up your cup for another sip of the gracious liquid a loud noise startles you. The booming WHACK of the front door slamming open makes you jump. Coffee spills into your lap, soaking through your super suit, and burning your thighs. “Shit!” You raise your voice and curse. 

“Oh goodness!” Jane cries out at your reaction. 

You clench your jaw and set your coffee cup on the table. The coffee stings, burns and singes through the thin fabric of your suit. 

“Tailorbrid!” A familiar voice calls your name. People all over the coffee shop gasp with fright. You whip your head over to the voice. 

There he is. Jake Fucking English. 

You rise to your feet. The bastard couldn’t leave you alone for too long, now could he? 

Jake stands in the doorway holding one of his guns in his right and as the other stays on his belt. He wears a shit eating grin, and oh, what you wouldn’t to the give him a good sucker punch to the face. Maybe break his glasses. But you can’t. For today he wears his green skull helmet. You would surely break your fingers if you even attempted. 

His hand is still placed on the door which remains wide open. “Ha! You ruined your clothing, it’s a damn shame you have to spend your last buck at the cleaners!” 

“I-“ Really? The suit was the great feat here? “I don’t care about my suit, what the fuck are you doing here? Is it so wrong for a guy to settle a bit, take a damn load off?” 

Jane is now also standing. She looks at Jake and pouts. She holds her forked weapon in a ready position, just in case he tries to make a foolish move. “Look buddy, we just got done crime fighting we don’t want any of your nonsense adding to the bread basket!” 

Jake walks away from the door and closer to you. The door makes a light click when it shuts, it’s a much nicer noise then from when it was opened. 

He stands just but a few feet away from you. “Will you hooligans calm down? All your loud jibber jabber makes my ears hurt.” He puts on a false frown. 

You take a deep breath and glance at Jane from the corner of your eye, then look back to Jake. “Whatever, just state why the hell you’re even here right now.” 

“Easy.” He says in a light tone, which proceeds to deepen. “I’m here to take you down, Tailorbird.” He is careful to never say your real name out loud. It’s part of the hero code but the same falls in line with villains. At least they are respectful about that. You both aren’t even supposed to know each other’s real names, but shit happens, and things leak out. 

“You won’t hurt him!” Jane yells at him with a fierce look planted upon her face. 

“Gumdrop,” You say to her. “It’s fine, stay out of this for now. I’ve handled him many times by myself.” 

She gives you a worried look and lowers her weapon. She trusts you. She takes a step back to let you do your bidding. 

You let out a deep, annoyed sigh and look at Jake. “Dude, I’m drinking coffee, is it too much to ask for you to leave me the hell alone?” 

“Yes.” He says bluntly, this time he wear a small genuine frown. “Yes it is, and you know why Tailorbird?” 

“No.” You want to scream it to the heavens. For the love of God let a bolt of lightning that isn’t your own strike Jake English dead. 

“Do you want to know why?” 

“No fucking shit Sherlock.” You say it with an eye roll that follows closely behind. 

“Well, you know that old robot you left just laying around in the streets after I shot it?” Jake puts the gun in his hand down to his side and attaches it to his belt. It seems like he has no plans on using it. 

“Yeah, what of it?” You remember the robot that you put so much effort into, and after so much time consuming work it turned out to be a giant failure. You hate even thinking about it, it was fairly embarrassing. 

Jake scoffs. “What of it? Well I shall tell you what of it. I have revamped that robot to my needs. It listens to my every command, tends to my every need, and bows on one knee to me like I am his king! From now on he will be my evil henchman working by my side in my devilish duties of crime!” He raises his hands in the air, his fingers look like claws, and he cackles in a maniac manner. It seems as though English has been watching too many cartoons for little brats. Not that he isn’t one himself.

“Good for you.” Sarcasm drips from your voice. All in all though, it wasn’t good. Depending on what Jake had done to that machine you could easily lose a fight, but knowing that he is completely useless when it comes to robotics, you’ll take your chances. 

“Of course it is!” He chimes. He then reaches down to his belt and presses the fashionable green   
skull in the center that has a second service as some sort of button. 

You raise an eyebrow at Jake then turn to give the same look at Jane. She shakes her head and shrugs in return. You look back to Jake. 

“I promise I am not stripping here.” He says as he takes his hands away from his belt. 

You mockingly pout. “Damn, I was hoping for some action here.” 

“Oh you wish, wouldn’t you? I bet you would adore that.” 

Just ever so slightly your lips turn downward. Was he poking fun at your sexuality? Maybe. But fuck if you know. 

Jake puts his hands on his hips. He looks as if he is waiting for something. His foot taps impatiently on the tiled floor. The room is silent. Everyone in the coffee shop had stopped to listen in and watch what they are doing. Jake's foot makes a soft patting noise that can be heard all around. 

“Is something supposed to happen?” You look around the room. 

“Um. Soon I suppose. I put a tracker into the robot, and from my belt he should be able to find me from just about anywhere.” 

A few more seconds of awkward silence go by as you don’t answer. Again you look at Jane. She knows this schmuck by now. At this point she sits in her seat with her weapon beside her and sips on her now nearly room temperature hot coco. You never noticed her move. Oh well.   
Jake stands now with his hand by his side. He mumbles curses of gibberish under his breath. 

“Shall I sing jeopardy?” You say with a teasing tone. 

“Cram it! Just give it a god damned minute! I’m sure he will be busting through the roof any second.” 

“He better not!” A mad voice from the coffee shop kitchen calls. 

Jake sighs. 

You start to hum the music from jeopardy and you swear you see Jake set his jaw. He turns to the door and suddenly all the facial features you can see light up. “Look he’s here now!”   
Jane still looks unaffected by all of this. 

After nearly two minutes of standing around, doing nothing, the door opens. A silver figure steps inside and lightly closes the door with the utmost care. Where the blue symbol of your hat usually would sit on its chest has now been replaced with a green skull, crudely painted over by the hand of what looks like a five year olds’ work. He pads up of to the group. ‘At least he has manners’ you think as your mind wanders to back to how Jake has a fetish of slamming doors open and shut. 

“Hello master.” It says. 

“Master, eh? Ay, G.T. what the hell are you doing with that poor thing?” You smirk. 

“Nothing!” Jake heats up. “Just shut up!” He looks at the robot and places a hand on its taller   
shoulder. The contraption stood almost half a head taller, the same height as you. “Now Otto, I want you to tear The Tailorbird apart. No holding back.” 

He might have been keeping his voice low as he talked to his new henchman but you could still hear. 

That didn’t sound good. Not at all. That robot could easily take you down, and you wouldn’t be surprised. For all you know Jake could have made that thing even more powerful than before. If that was true then you are surely fucked here. You still try to play it off as though it was nothing. “Otto? Really? That’s the best name you could think of? I like Brobot better. “ 

Jake puffs out his chest as he looks to you. “No one asked your opinion, because guess what? He goes by Otto now, capish?” He hastily points a black leather gloved finger at you. “Otto, destroy him now!” 

Otto turns his metal head from Jake to you. Everything about him is blank and lifeless. “Why?”   
Jake looks nearly dumbfounded at that simple question. “Why? Because I hate him, and I told you to! Now go, rip him to pieces!” 

The robot starts to near you. You tense up, a wave of heat rushes throughout your body. When he comes at you, you will be ready. There was no way in hell you would go down without a fight. You hear the sound of shuffling coming from next to you. You were not going to look but you somehow knew it was Jane coming to standing position, she would never let you get hurt. 

You didn’t want her to hurt either. You wish she would say out of these things. Jake was your nemesis not hers. 

Otto stands in front of you. The orange lights he has for eyes bore into you behind his shades, right through your very own goggles plastered on your face. “I do not want to.” 

A moment goes by. Everyone looks at each other in a confounded manner, even the victims in the coffee shop. The robot refuses to make a move on you. 

“Go on now!” Jake voice finally calls out. He is enraged at the lack of action. “Rough him up! Let him toil in his own mess. Otto, do what you are made to do!” He hands ball up into tight fists. 

“I cannot.” The robot states. “He is my creator.” 

You smirk. You just can’t help it when a bubbling sensation of laughter rises from within you. This was all too great. “You’re busting my balls here! Holy shit man, G.T. you really did fix brobot.” As you laugh you run a hand through your hair and try to calm down. 

Jake’s face heats up red, like hellfire. “No wait! He’s supposed to listen to me! He’s supposed to beat you senseless, leaving you a bamboozled mess! Equius said-“ 

“Equius doesn’t know shit.” You cut in. That was a lie. Equius was just as skilled as you, perhaps even more, but in this predicament you would spout out just about anything to degrade Jake even more. He just needs to leave you alone for once. Jake out of your life would be your own piece of heaven. 

“Ugh!” Jake grimaces and calls Otto back to his side, which the robot at least complies. “You good for nothing trash boat!” 

You stifle another laugh and Jane giggles right beside you. True you wish these events never took place today, but at least it was damn great to watch English fail. “Things not going as you intended?” You teased. 

“No!” He cries out in utter frustration. He swiftly turns around and his green cape flutters over him, then drapes down on his shoulders. “Well then,” He says through gritted teeth. “I shall be on my way. Perhaps this little meet up didn’t work out to my expectations, but I assure you the next time we see each other it won’t be some pointless dilly dallying. I’ll have you on the ground beneath my   
feet! I’ll-” 

“That’s a nice thought buddy, but if you’re going to leave then get a damn move on already. Also you look mental when you’re not facing the person you’re talking too. Just a tip, do that next time.” 

You cross your arms. 

He lets out a giant defeated sigh. You swear he is going to turn around and pummel you with gibberish British talk but instead he starts to walk away. It was obvious he was trying to avoid further embarrassment.   
Jake stiffly walks out of the door and brobot- no Otto- follows closely behind. 

You shake your head and make your way back to your seat. The coffee that spilled onto your lap is still somewhat warm, but that doesn’t help the face that under your clothing you thighs were still itching in pain.   
Jane sits down next to you. “That was, uh, something.” 

“He’s more than just something, he’s fucking…” You don’t even know what to say that could describe your sincere feelings of hatred. “Just, fuck man, I hate his guts.” 

“We all do.” She lightly touches your arm. “Are you okay?” 

“Pff.” You flout. “I’m not beat, bloody, nor did I walk out of that door with shame stampeding after me like anger bulls.” You look into your near empty cup of coffee. “Other than coffee melting the sk.in off my lap, I’m good. So yeah, I’m fine.” 

Jane softly giggles. “Hm yeah, I know you’re fine. I shouldn’t have asked.” She bumps your shoulder with her fist. “Want another coffee?” 

You can’t quite tell if she is mocking you from the spill or genuinely asking, but you say yes anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so the 'actual' plot shall begin next chapter. :)   
> (as close to plot as this story will get)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw shit, it's the next chapter! Ayyyyyy!   
> I also just want to say that this is based off the 2012 superstuck au. Dude I don't even know whats going on anymore, I'm a lone survivor. Plus I always thought it was cute and deserved more attention.

Your name is Jake English and embarrassment isn’t the right word to describe what you are feeling right now. Humiliation is more like it. How dare your dastardly amazing plan fail right in front of your face! Damn the Equius, it must have been his fault. He obviously didn’t try hard enough to fix the bot to your specifications. Why that bloody lazy lug!

You grumble as you flop on your bed, now home and safe in your room. Now that you aren’t in public the bubbling anger that was once rooted deep within your gut has now started to dwindle. What an ugly day you’ve been having, truly hideous. 

If only you knew Otto had been faulty- okay well, he was before Equius “fixed” him. Perhaps that was just it, the robot was never meant to work properly in the first place. It was just faulty since creation and no hand that touched it could possibly bring a cure to its mishaps. That robot was simply a mistake from the beginning. Sure! That must be the case you’re working with here. 

Sitting up on the edge of your bed you look at the lifeless robot riddling you bedroom floor. You had deliberately turned him off this time, and with a click of a button you could turn him back on. Perhaps it you should have dropped him off in your own workshop but honestly, your bed was the first thing on your mind as you walked barraged through your front door and threw your green skull helmet haphazardly on the floor. A mental rest would be nice but you know that won’t happen. This plan has been deemed a failure and your father was to be arriving soon. Too soon for your liking. 

Damn it. If only you weren’t overly shitty at making plans. Your brain always turned to mush when trying to think of a useful angle to take down Strider. And when you thought on whim, well, that always ended horribly. 

You sighed deeply as you looked down at Otto. Eventually you would have to turn the poor fellow back on again, he’s been out since you got in your car to drive home. Besides, now isn’t the time for moping around. You may be the absolute worst at plotting, but giving up is for the weak. And hell if you’re weak! 

“Strider, I swear I’ll get you somehow….” You grumble to yourself as you get up from you bed and meander over to the hunk of metal that sits on your floor. 

Crouching down to the bot you turn it over and take the back panel off, then flip the switch to start him up. You place the panel back and wait for him to start up as you flip him once more to face the ceiling. You watch as his eyes slowly grow bright, and before you know it he sits up. 

“Ah, master. Glad to see you.” He said in his usual monotone voice. 

You roll your eyes. “Glad to see you.” You say in a mocking tone back to him. “Also don’t call me master. I’m Jake.” You never wanted to hear the name ‘master’ again after today.

“Jake, you seem upset. Why are you upset?” Otto asks you. 

“You! You’re the reason!” You answer him rather quickly to your own surprise. You stand up, feeling the ache from crouching already. “Why did you flub up back there?” 

“Flub up?” 

“Yes! You know, you didn’t beat the bejeezus out of Strider- or Tailorbird if you prefer!” You can’t help but raise your arms with the quick fury that runs through you. 

“Oh. Because I didn’t think he wanted me to.” He stared directly at you. His glowing eyes pierce right through you. Creepy. Slightly unsettling. 

You close your eyes and pinch you nose in utter frustration. “No Otto,” You say through gritted teeth. “Of course he didn’t. But I wanted you to!” 

“But what will I do next time?” 

Turing away you sigh deeply. You were obviously too worked over something so minuscule. Well not minuscule exactly, but you might have felt a tad bit bad for just losing your temper on a machine. “Next time I want you to just listen to me, okay?” 

There was a slight delay in his response. “Okay, I will.” 

Ugh. Untrustworthy. 

“What would you like me to do now?” Otto asks you, rather innocently if you had to say so yourself. 

“I-I don’t know!” You reach out to you nearest shelf and grab the first book you see. An encyclopedia for the letter H. Who the hell even reads these anymore? Why the hell do you even have them? You shrug and toss the book to the robot on the floor who catches it with almost lighting speed. “Read this book will you, educate yourself chum.” 

The bot studies the book then flips it open the first page. Already he seems to be engaged. Well at least that takes care of that. 

You leave him to his business as you walk over to your study desk and seat yourself in the wheeled chair. The perfect environment for learning, or well, thinking about how to take down your nemesis. Now for that good old plotting and scheming. 

Let’s start with weaknesses. What the heck are Strider’s vulnerabilities? You think for a moment. Well that coffee from earlier seemed to faze him, but you were pretty sure you would need a butt ton more coffee than that to take him down. Maybe you were filthy rich, but even then that would take so much time, not to mention that sounded like the lamest headline ever. ‘Superhero Tailorbird Defeated when Hot Coffee is spilled.’ You shake your head. You really were an idiot. 

Okay onto another weakness. Dirk did seem to lash out a lot. That must mean he has insecurities, you know that because you took psychology class that one time in college! You sigh. But hell if you knew exactly what they were. A sudden thought pops up in your absolutely brilliant mind. You spin your chair around to face Otto. 

“Say, Otto, do know anything about Strider? Say maybe something that could, I don’t know, cause his downfall?” 

The brobot looks up at you. “I’m not too sure I do.” 

“Ugh, you’re useless! All I want to do is expose some blemish, some sort of blunder! I must find out what makes him tick- or break.” You feel yourself getting slightly tense once more. You shouldn’t be surprised, talking about Strider always made you want to punch a wall. 

Otto sets the book down in his lap as his cold eyes look into your pure evil soul. “So what you’re saying is, you want to get to know him?” 

You squinted you’re eyes at him. ‘Get to know?’ Wasn’t that a dating term? Didn’t Equius say something about that at one point? “Yes?” You answer suspiciously. 

“Then go meet him.” 

Your eyes widen. This robot was going to go right into the scrap yard! “What?! I can’t do that you imbecile! He’ll know it’s me! I-“ 

“No he won’t.” Otto cuts you off. “You wear the helmet every time you confront each other, right?”

You think a moment. “Well that is indeed correct. But at night I don’t wear it because it goofs with my vision,” You suddenly make the connection. “But it’s dark and he- he doesn’t get to see my face! That way I can meet him as normal with no trouble!” 

“Exactly.” 

“Oh Otto! I knew you were good for something! I’m sorry I ever doubted you- but wait, my voice!” Your heart drops. This plan had no hopes of working. He would recognize your voice as soon as he heard you speak. 

If Otto could roll his eyes he surely would be right now. “Jake, he’s American.” 

“So?” You question. 

“He’s American and Texan. And all Americans think British people sound the same.” 

You were simply flabbergasted at that statement, mostly because it was a hundred percent true. This might actually work. You could simply disguise yourself as some average everyday guy, walk up to his front door, and claim you’re a neighbor or something. Perfect. He won’t know it’s you. Maybe. 

You stand as a wicked grin spreads across your lips. 

Why haven’t you ever thought of this before? You could pretend to be someone you obviously aren’t, therefore you would be able to get close to him, and therefore you could learn all of his secrets! Now that was perfection. He would never know what hit him. 

“Otto you devil, this just might work!” You exclaimed, getting up to look through your wardrobe. 

“I’m a robot.” Otto responded and continued to read through the H encyclopedia. 

You didn’t pay attention to the bot’s last comment for you were already trying to fish out what you should wear for such a… special occasion. After ditching a few options that were either too strange or entirely too exposing you settled on some casual wear. A plain t-shirt with khakis. Simple yet just good enough to work. 

You stripped yourself of your old suit and dressed in your new clothing options, not giving a care the there was a robot in the room with you. It felt so oddly natural to wear, kind of nice actually especially since you were about to meet the most disgusting, revolting, horrid person ever. 

You spin around. “So how do I look?” 

“Presentable.” He stated. 

“Excellent!” 

Strider would never know what hit him. Let’s see, you have a few weeks to go. As long as you can really win him over, dig knives into his soft spots, and betray him like the master mind you really are, then everything should go just swell. 

 

*** 

Fretting. Fretting is what you are doing right now. Your name is Jake English and you are a truly evil person, yet you stand at the apartment door of the Strider abode and you are fretting. You knew through the tracker in his boot that this was it. This was the exact place you needed to be. 

You’ve been standing outside of his complex for an hour, maybe? Was it even an hour? You look at your totally regular normal person wrist watch. Six O’ clock. Okay so maybe it was a little over an hour.   
Man this place was a dump. It looked like the kind of apartment complex that would be on a crime show after a whole family was just brutally murdered. Honestly, if that was the case with this one, you wouldn’t be   
all that surprised. That or one of those people from a Jerry Springer episode lived here. 

You check yourself. Casual pants, check. Casual shirt, got it. Shoes… well all you have are boots so good enough. Hair- swooped to the other side, check. All seems good and normal, and normal is just what you’re going for. The only thing you have to do now is mentally prepare yourself to not punch Strider in the face as soon as he opens the door for you. 

Reaching a fist out to knock on the door you hesitate. This plan was dumb. What were you thinking, of course he was going to know who you were! Everything about you just screamed ‘Hello, I’m Jake English, the snobby boy who wants to see your guts on the exterior of your body’. Also, you didn’t even have any of your weapons or protection if he did decide to wail on you. What a great decision it was to leave them. Damn it, you really should have thought of this more thoroughly. Or maybe you shouldn’t have taken advice from a robot that had only been alive for a total of three hours. 

With one final sigh you reach out and knock on the door, hoping everything will fall into place according to plan. Too bad the second thoughts were already piling on.

You wait. 

No answer. 

That was probably just God giving you a second chance. Alright, what dapper fun! Time to leave! You turn to walk away but right as you do you can hear the unmistakable noise of door hinges creaking behind you. 

You stop dead in your tracks. This was it. This was your do or die moment. You whip around to face him, still on beat with the moment and not ceasing to smile at him. “Hello!” You say rather chipper. 

Dirk looks back you. Though, at first, even for you it was hard to recognize him out of costume. He looked so ordinary, yet beat down. His blonde hair flopped in front of his shades, his tank top was black and hung loosely from him. You weren’t exactly sure how you felt about this whole scene. 

“Um, hey?” The other responded to you. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re selling but I’m not too sure I want it until I read the specifics.” 

Oh holy guacamole. He didn’t recognize you on sight. This was pure insanity. “O-oh, uh, no. That’s not what I’m here for actually.” You responded, trying to conceal your accent just slightly, even if what Otto said was more than true. There was a shred of nervousness compacted in your voice. 

He cocked an eyebrow back at you. “Can I help you?” 

“Um yes. I can come here to… check your water heater!” You grin back at him. That was spur of the moment. Weren’t you going to be his new neighbor? Now you’re his new mechanic? You screwed that one up. Well at least that gave you a chance to be able to snoop around a bit. 

“My water heater?” 

“Yes exactly that. You know, to see if all that jazz is still working well and is up to date. Also your pipes and faucets, I must see if those are up to date as well.” You had no idea where you were going with this. You didn’t exactly know what you were talking about. Hopefully he would buy it. “Oh! I’m Ja-“ You hesitate for a second. “…Jack. Jack El…rick. I mean Errick. I apologize.” Why are you the way you are sometimes? You just flubbed big time. But you still remembered to be polite and hold a hand out to him. 

Dirk doesn’t seem too interested in shaking your slightly sweaty hand. How rude. Instead he steps aside to let you in. “Derrick Walker. Come in.” 

Your heart rate quickened. Not only was his pseudonym impeccably amazing but you also could not believe he was actually letting you into his home. There was no way he didn’t recognize you, right? This was insane! You kept your composure as you walked through the door. 

“No offense but what are you even going to do while you’re here. Where the hell are your tools if you do find something wrong?” 

Shit. He was interrogating you. You turn to look at him. “Well you see, it’s only a checkup right now. If I find something wrong I’ll come back to fix it.” 

“Okay and who’s paying for this?” He crossed his arms and leaned on the door frame. 

“Uh- well the state.” 

“Right. Anyway, the kitchen is to your right and the bathroom is down the hall on your left. Have a blast.” 

You wondered how he could be so sarcastic all the time. It was super annoying. “Alright! Well thanks mate! I’ll get right on that, and I’ll come back if anything is wonkered up!” You turn on heel and start heading to the kitchen to do whatever the heck you are supposed to do, but a voice stops you. 

“Wait.” 

“Uh-huh?” You look at him. 

His tone seems immensely dark. “Dude what’s with the… the accent?” 

You didn’t realize it but you let it slip to its full extent. And that gave Strider ever right to hold suspicion. 

Well. 

Bugger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder. Do people even make it this far when they read?   
> Like. I would have stopped four chapters ago but dang.   
> I haven't been in the homestuck fandom for about eight months now, ahahahahahahaha....   
> Anyway, the next chapter is on its way already!   
> (constant dying noises)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summer is almost upon me.  
> Let me tell school goodbye already.  
> Please.  
> Also that would give me more time to work on this crap.

Your name is Dirk Strider and you want to punch the thing that is nearest to you. Oh holy shit that just happens to be an over the top British man that’s standing right in front of you. You can already feel the static at your fingertips, ready to strike. You must have either been more tired than usual or the most fucking gullible person ever.

The slightly shorter man by the name of ‘Jack’ stood in front of you. His facial expression told the story of worry, or maybe that was confusion. You sure as hell didn’t know nor did you care because all you knew was that he wasn’t supposed to be in your house. And that most likely- now this was just a hunch- Jack wasn’t his real name.

You clenched your fists and gritted your teeth together.

“Accent? No reason.” He was covering at this point. “You see my family comes from England and I am but a lost soul in America trying to gain money through my entrepreneurship business. You know, the American dream and all that bull honky. ” 

“Shut up and get out.” You point to the door that is already open.

The man seems to jump when you swing your arm out. He gives off the look of unease. It was Jake, it had to be. Here you were, being the biggest fool there was, letting him onto your own home. You were going to be mocked for months now.

“What are you talking about? I’m so dearly sorry you want me gone. All I wanted to do was check on your pipes, sir.”

“Don’t play dumb. Fucking leave.” You gestured at the door. You watch as the other seems to contemplate leaving.

“Alright, alright. No need for the vulgar language.” He sighs. “Just please forgive me if I have made an unintentional mistakes.” He lets out another over exaggerated sigh.

“Shut up, and move your ass out the door!” Sparks fly from your hand yet ‘Jack’ doesn’t notice, that or, you know, it’s Jake and he’s already seen it a billion times. You wish you weren’t getting too embarrassingly worked up over this, but it frustrated you to the depths of hell what this guy would do to you.

“Listen, I’m sorry for this nonsense trouble, but I promise I am not here to cause you harm.” He took a small step backwards toward the door frame.

“Oh yeah? Then what the hell are you here for?”

“Well, as stated before, to check your water heater. “ He stated his answer in a tone that held a dub of shyness. 

You force yourself to take a deep breath and calm down. If he was going to play this game with you then you would just have to play it back. “How can I be sure?”

“B-because I honestly just fix water heaters and rusty pipes?”

You hated how innocent this guy was acting. Yet you still couldn’t accuse him. Sure he seemed fairly similar to Jake from what you’ve seen. But you still haven’t seen all that much. Also it was super hard to differentiate British voices. They all fucking sounded the same. “I don’t believe you.”

“I’m sorry, it’s only the truth sir.” 

There was this small itch at the back of your mind, one that was bothersome and wouldn’t go away. One that told you if this wasn’t Jake then you would be the biggest asshole ever. The fact that you are a hero gives you that feeling that you must be kind to every citizen. Unfortunately, whoever this guy was counted. Plus you already got shit regularly from people who claimed you were a destructive vigilantly, might as well not get on people’s bad sides when you were undercover. “I still don’t believe you.” Some anger has already left your voice as you try to act more calm and collected.

“I’m sorry. I’m just Jack, the guy who works on water heaters and all that jazz. I promise.” He shuffles his feet slightly.

Everything about this situation was putting you on edge. You weren’t exactly sure what you were supposed to believe, this situation was suspicious beyond recognition. This guy only sort of resembled the man you hated with a deep passion. He didn’t act like a total jerk, so maybe there was no reason to kick him. You groan, just knowing you are making a huge mistake, you’ll be waiting for the recoil of this mistake later. Whatever, like it mattered, you only had a shed of dignity left in you anyway. If you lose it now then it’s not much of a loss.

The infuriation of this scene was pushing your boundaries. It’s not like you have ever lost a battle with Jake before. If that punk did suddenly decide to show his true face you would be more than ready. Heck, it didn’t even look like he had any weaponry on him. What a moron. You figured you would just have to take your chances. “Fine.”

“Fine?” The other’s eyes grew and shed away a layer of fear that was there.

“Just do what you’re here to do and leave.” You grunt out, not enthusiastic at all.

“Will do!”

You swear his voice just raised an extra two octaves. You watched as he walked right passed you and went into your kitchen. You didn’t care that you never told him where the water heater actually was. You would just let him do his thing.

Man, you probably seemed like a lunatic if that really wasn’t Jake.

***

Your name is Jake English- no wait- Jack Errick, and you are probably the most evil person you know, well, eliminating your father from that equation. Let’s get real here, you are one sneaky devil. He fell for it! He actually fell for it! That goon has no idea who he is actually messing with. What an imbicile! He has not a clue of what treachery will be exposed to him soon.

You can’t help but grin as you turn away from him and head to the kitchen. It’s an ugly and twisted grin, one that you know will end with the other’s future demise- or you’ll at least be able to kick him to the side so you can play out taking over the city.

Strider’s apartment was really a mess. You were even tidier than this. The apartment reeked of neglect and mistreatment as you wandered into the kitchen. And what was the deal with the random puppets? They looked a bit too… obscure for your liking. You figured you best not judge though, your interests could be just as strange at times. 

You saw the kitchen sink then the cabinet directly under it. You might as well act like you were doing an actual job just in case Strider invaded you any minute, it would be best not to dawdle too much. Though, you were a devious son of a gun, so you might as well snoop just a bit. There was no damage in getting more of a gain while try to befriend your, um, customer? Yeah sure.

Scattered robotics on the table caught your eye. You started to wonder if your rival was attempting to build a new robot due to the complete failure of the last one. Wires, batteries, nuts and bolts as well as some cable among other scraps were littered about. None of it mapped out its future though, and you had no idea what he was going for. It was all just a toiling jumble of parts. You picked on up to study it. It was small, about the size of your palm, with wire hanging out of it of every color. You knew only so much about robotics, if only you could decipher such a raw, coarse object.

Perhaps it was some new device that would obliterate you for good. Nice try Strider. Now you’ve seen his master plan. It would be a shame if a piece were to go missing. You tried to hold back a snicker as you slipped the small contraption into your pants pocket. Thank god for large khaki pockets, no one would ever be able to tell you have something hidden in there.

You took one last look at the table and turned on heel to face the sink one more. Oh right, you had a job to do technically. Well you figure you’ve spent enough time in here already so you just slam the cabinet door shut to make it seem like you just finished.

Ha. You were such a bad boy.

You casually walk out of the kitchen, you’ve spent enough time in that shithole part of the house, no need stick around. Besides, forget checking the sink, you had what you needed. Maybe. You go onward to the bathroom. Where was that again? You clear your throat and call out for assistance. “Where did you say the bathroom was?!”

You waited for an answer. This was so awkward suddenly.

“Second door to the left!” A voice called back, its direction coming from the living room.

Perfect. That bozo was in a completely different section of the house. “Okay thanks!” You answer then slip into the room opposite of the bathroom. Time to do your dirty deeds- wait. This room was completely empty. There was nothing in it at all. How strange. The only thing there was the four walls, a closet door, and the flooring. This perplexed you. Strider could easily use this room for storage, or maybe a workshop instead of trashing his kitchen table with scraps for his dumb heroic deeds.

That man confused you far too much. It was as if everything he did was so nonsensical. There was a perfectly empty room right here. Not to mention he always wore those moronic pointy sunglasses, even inside, and even when it was dark.

You walk into the room further and approach the closet. There must be some sort of secret in here. There should be no reason for a perfectly good storage unit to go to waste like this. You had an inkling, maybe 

Dirk was putting on the poor person act, and inside this closet was the lever that would open his heroic lair, uncovering ever secret he has!

You push the closet door open only to find- nothing, yet again. You squint. Maybe there was some hidden button somewhere, some form of intricate hidden device that would allow some form of passageway. That or you were just fooling yourself.

With a strong sigh you back out of the closet. It seems as though there wasn’t anything here to hide… or even have in the first place. It was bizarre, but you couldn’t loiter over this room any longer. You were on a mission!

As soon as you turn there is a looming figure in the doorway. You jump back out of surprise.

“What are you doing in here?” Dirk growled. His voice was unwelcoming and almost reflected how pissed he was when he first suspected you of being his nemesis.

“Um- I just thought the water heater was in here!” You thought fast and came up with a reasonable answer, thank god.

“Well just-“ He left out a huff of air, trying to calm himself down from his sudden outburst. “Just ask or something instead of lurking around my damn apartment.” He frowned.

“Okay, okay.” You tried to shake off the jitters of almost being caught meddling around. Your heart was going supersonic speed. “Then where is it if I may ask?”

He pointed in its direction. “First door. Left. Get out.” He stated bluntly.

“Right! Sorry!”

Dirk moved out of the door way and you walked passed him, trying not to rush yourself as you made it to the closet that held the water heater. You wonder why on earth this man was so dang angry all the time. Perhaps he still had the assumption that your facade was fake. He just really seemed overly mean right now, but maybe that was just you.

You feel his eyes on you as you opened the closet and pretend that you know what you’re doing. The thickness of the atmosphere was weighing down on your shoulders as you searched over the water heater, which looked awful by the way. You hoped he wasn’t watching everything you’re doing for he probably has more knowledge about water heaters than you do. Soon enough you hear footsteps padding on the carpet walking passed you. Another second goes by before you take a breather from bluffing your career.

You lean out of the closet and glance over to the room you were previously in. There were no thoughts of going back into it, for if you did Strider would surely shed his suspicions you in knowledge that you were indeed Jake English, but you still wanted to know why a home that was a total trash horde had a completely perfect and empty room.

You sigh. You’ll never know Strider antics, the man is a mystery. While the average person has four corners he himself is of cubical inquiries.

Closing the closet door you step away from the water heater and walk out into the living room where Strider was residing on the couch, aimlessly watching static on the TV with a frown that bore across his lips. You could hear him curse under his breath.

“Mr…Walker?” You hoped you remembered that was the name he has chosen for himself.

He jumped at your voice and turned off the television via the remote that was in his hand. “Uh-yeah? The TV wasn’t working.” He rested his arm on the back of the couch as he turned to look at you. The way he did was so casual it was unnerving to think that this man ever lived a ‘regular’ life.

“I see that.”

“Yeah…”

“Anyway,” You start after that slightly awkward return. “I have checked over everything, and well, you see your sink need some fixing.”

“Bathroom or kitchen?” He cocked an eyebrow.

Damn, you totally forgot about the bathroom. “Uh… both. I meant sinks. Sinks as in plural.” You look at him blankly.

“Right. I’ll take care of those someday that. Now if you could just leave already that would be great.” Strider responded with a shrug and turned back to the now black screened TV.

Well there goes that plan down the drain. You couldn’t let him do that, especially when you were pretty sure nothing was wrong with them in the first place. “No wait! Its free remember? I’ll just-I’ll be back tomorrow to fix everything! Free of charge, and no hard work on your part!” You put on a reassuring and hopefully persuasive grin. 

He sighed and looked back at you once more. You could feel his eyes digging deep into you. He didn’t answer at first, it seemed like he was taking his time making such a simple and obvious decision. Finally his mouth went into a hard line before he found it in him to respond. “Yeah sure. I’ll take a break whenever I can get one.”

You could feel your insides screaming with joy. Now you just had access back into the Strider abode and he had no idea of the evils that were to occur. Your grin almost turned twisted for a second before you dropped it to a normal friend’s smile of acceptance. “Well sir, guess I’ll be back tomorrow?”

He nodded. “Guess so.” He obviously wasn’t too into this conversation.

“Right-o!” You chime, more giddy than ever. You take a step back to leave as he turns away from you and begins to fiddle with the TV remote for a bit. You watch him for another second. The man was so oblivious to you scheme it was almost humorous. Actually it was humorous, and if you weren’t in his presence you would be laughing right now. You take one last glance at him before turning and heading out of his front door. 

***

Your name is Dirk Strider and more anger than ever floods you. You stand up and slam the remote on the ground. The back pops off and batteries tumble on the floor. You wished you could calm down this sudden rage. It fact it seemed so unnecessary. You’re tense as ever.

One moment you were pacing back and forth about the stranger in your house, the next thing you know you accidentally let a bolt of worked up anger destroy your television, then you agree to letting the guy back into your home. How idiotic could you be?

The most frustrating part of this whole scenario is that you had no way to fully identify if that man was Jake or not. He held the same stature, similar vocals, but everything else was skewed, and it infuriated you.  


You felt so gullible, except on the note that if it wasn’t him then you felt like an ass. You couldn’t confront him; that was crossed off the list, which would be a gamble of letting a citizen know your true identity.

And shit you’re back to pacing.

Maybe it was good thing you were letting him back into your apartment. Maybe you could be able to study him more so that way. Maybe the fool will shed his horrible disguise only for you suspicions to come true.  


If that happens you wouldn’t be too surprised, as if that dick head could even hold up a tactic for more than an hour. Not to mention you did find him prying in your brother’s old room. He could have been telling the truth though, is was your fault you didn’t tell him were the heater was. This feeling was the worst, not being able to tell the certainty of anything. If you’re lucky you’ll get a call on your home phone an hour later with him mocking you. Of course that would be humiliating, but at least it would confirm your skepticism.

For now you know that you had to deal with this bullshit. Just until you could tell for sure at least.

You feel a migraine coming on and you flop down on the couch. You pull you shades off and set them by the base of the couch, then rub your temples. There’s the sensation of apprehension that you can’t help let take over as your anger slowly subsides.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what AU hasn't been explored enough?  
> A wild west/ western/ gunslinger AU.  
> Like.  
> I would be all over that man.


End file.
